


uni!lock adlock valentine gift exchange

by catNclaw



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Adlock, Sherlock - Freeform, Uni!lock, adlock au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6024601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catNclaw/pseuds/catNclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is a fanfic I wrote for an adlock valentine gift exchange on tumblr with a uni!lock au. I hope you enjoy:) apologies in advance, English is not my first language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	uni!lock adlock valentine gift exchange

Irene Adler sure did spent a lot of time in the man dormitory for a woman.  
She was a skirt running around the dormitory halls in the middle of the night, barefoot with her high heels in her hands so she won’t make a noise, sneaking lightly and never get caught. All men in the university noticed her. Even Sherlock noticed her. Not that he cared that much, he didn’t bother himself with such trivia. But he also had the habit of wondering around the halls in the middle of the night, for entirely different reasons. The night was the time his mind was awake. His brain worked best at night, and walking in the halls helped him think. The darkness, the silence, the coolness from the stone walls. Sometimes he didn’t even notice he did it.  
Several times he ran into her, slipping through one of the dorm rooms’ doors, tapping through the hall and passing him, like a ghost. One time, after a few times of running into each other and making nothing but a quick eye contact, the mystery woman turned to him, her pale skin glowing in the dark. “Seems like we have some things in common,” she whispered, than turned around and disappeared into the darkness. Sherlock blinked several times. He didn’t even know her name at the time. The morning after he asked his best friend John about her, trying to sound as casual as possible.  
“There was this girl that wondered around our dorms last night.”   
“Oh no, a lot of girls do that. Guys bring them over when they want to get lai – “  
“Yes,” Sherlock broke him off, ignoring his teasing smile. “But there is one girl in particular, that keeps coming back. Black hair, blue eyes…” shimmering in the moonlight coming from the hall’s windows.   
“Oh I know who you’re talking about. That’s Irene Adler. She’s a whore – “  
And boy, did the rumors fly about this woman. She sleeps with guys. She sleeps with girls. She sleeps with the professors. She even slept with -   
“- the Dean to get in, that’s what they say,” John continued while chewing his breakfast. Sherlock frowned. “That seems unlikely. He’s over eighty.”  
“No, she would’ve done it,” John confirmed.   
A few nights later, they encountered each other again. She only gave him a mischievous smirk and turned to leave, But froze as she saw the flickering of a distant flashlight, like a cat who just heard the tapping feet of a dog coming near.   
“Shit,” he heard her hiss. Then she turned around to him with a determined look. “Hide me,” she commanded. Before Sherlock managed to blurt out “wha – “, she was already pushing him through his dorm room door. “Quick!” she hissed again, then hurried to come in after him and close the door behind her.   
“What are you – you can’t just – “ Sherlock tried to say, but was quickly dismissed by a “shh!” of Irene. She held her ear against the door. After a few moments, she said in a low voice: “the professors are searching Dickenson’s room. Connelly must have told on him. That jealous idiot.” Sherlock had no idea who Dickenson or Connelly were. He barely knew any other student’s name but John Watson since he couldn’t care less about the boring students. But he quickly made the logical conclusion.  
“Dickenson is the one you just left?” he asked her.  
Irene nodded. “And Connelly was the one I was with a few nights ago. Was probably pissed that I’ve moved on so fast,” She smiled. “My mistake. Never do the same guy more than once. They get so… sentimental,” she said casually. Sherlock was surprised they share the same contempt for sentiment.  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he mumbled and she turned her smile to him. He felt a tiny unwanted smile curving his lips too. He sat down on his bed while Irene returned her attention to the door. “Ooohh. Sounds like they’re searching all the other rooms as well. Waking everybody up,” Her grin widened, as if she’s happy from the chaos she had created.   
“They’re searching all the rooms?”   
If they find her here, in the middle of the night, with him… with her reputation… he could get expelled. His academic education in one of the best universities in Britain detained because of this stupid thing… and she wasn’t even – he wasn’t – god, his brother will laugh at him until the end of days…   
“Oh, relax” Irene rolled her eyes as she saw how tensed he got. “They’ll never search here. The professors adore you. They would never imagine you getting into these sort of troubles.” She’s right. Though he wasn’t sure what she meant by _these_ sort of troubles. Not that he bothered.   
“What do you mean, _these_ sort of troubles?” he asked.  
She smiled deviously. “Oh, you know.” She turned from the door and started walking towards him. Her skirt was incredibly short. Her thighs were right at his direct sight. He had to look up to look at her face.  
“Such a smart, promising student, practically a genius I’ve heard, with a _cheap slut_ like me… One wouldn’t figure you’d bother yourself to talk to me.” She was surpassingly close now, if he’d looked straight, he would have faced her chest. But he’s not going to do that.   
“Are you still wearing that?” She looked at his tie with disapproval. He gets so caught up with his thoughts and experiments, he often forgets to take off his uniforms at night. “There now,” She sent out her hand and pulled off his tie with ease. He involuntarily leaned back at her touch. She held out his tie and looked at it lazily, as if thinking what she could do with it. She raised her eyes to his with that mischievous spark again. Then, she stretched out his tie and bit it, grabbing it with her teeth.  
Sherlock grumbled, then got up the bed and passed her to get to his desk. Their bodies brushed against each other and caught her smell, something that sensed natural and yet so pleasant, like a natural perfume. He stood by his desk with his back her. He was starting to get really irritated. He was in the middle of an important experiment, He didn’t have patience for strange women to barge in his room and mess with his ties. Besides, he knew exactly what she meant. It’s not socially acceptable that a considerably attractive person of any kind to pay any sort of attention to someone like him. He couldn’t care less about these things, but he was sure she was mocking him, and he couldn’t stand being mocked.    
“Hey, come on.” The surprising softness in her voice made him turn around. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything. I was just teasing you. I just figured, we’d probably be spending some time here, we might as well have a little fun, right?” Her smile came back to her face, only this time it was a little more sincere.   
“Alright then.” Time for him to have _a little fun._ “You called yourself a cheap slut, but I wouldn’t say _cheap_ , considering the fortune your family is coming from.”  
Her smile slipped a little. “Fortune? What fortune?”  
“You’ve been trying to convince everyone you’re here on scholarship. So you’ve made sure your clothes won’t give you away. Cheap uniforms, knock-off shoes, careful not to buy any expensive brand of perfume or makeup. But you just couldn’t give up on those earrings, could you?” He was referring to the pair of diamond earrings she was wearing, on which he had a close look at earlier. He started pacing towards her. “Those are rather expensive, what ore they, two carats?”  
“They’re a knock-off.”  
“Exactly,” Sherlock declared. “Why would you say it’s a knock off? Isn’t that the purpose of knock offs, to make people think they’re the real thing?” He felt his cheek crook up in a smile. That glimmer of superiority vanished from her eyes, which were now wide open and fixed on him. Her mouth was slightly open. Yes. He owned her this time.   
“Unless you want people to think it’s a knock off. You want people to think you’re trying to be someone you’re not, which you are, but in a very different way. Because the best way to make sure no one will notice a lie is to make them think they’re already on to it.”  He finished with triumph. He felt tingling up his back and hands. He moved close to her again, but he didn’t care this time.   
Her eyes never left his. Was it insult? Defeat? Awe?   
“So why did you keep the earrings? Sentimental value, I presume?”   
This time Irene was the one to move past him and sit on his bed. She grabbed his pillow and started playing with the loose stitching. His pillow, on which he put his head every night. Currently sitting on her lap.   
“My grandmother gave them to me,” She said quietly. Sherlock didn’t know what to say. Did he go too far?   
She sighed. “You’re right. I’m not on scholarship. In fact my parents had to pay extra for me to get in here. Not that I wanted to be here,” She groused. “My parents forced me to. They had to give up a lot of money to make them accept a problematic girl like me,” She smirked, gloating at the loss she had caused to her parents.   
“A problematic girl? You?” He smiled at her playfully.   
Her eyes flashed as her grin widened. “Yes. A girl that has fun. That misbehaves _._ ” There was silence as the word faded away. _Misbehaves._ Sherlock sat on a chair in front of Irene. She put the pillow back down. “My parents demanded me to stand to certain expectations my fortune and family name are giving me. They think a young woman my age should be receiving proper academic education. So they sent me here to teach me some manners. But they have no idea how naughty the people are in their special little ‘honorable institution’.” She said cunningly.   
 “So you don’t want people here to know about your status?”  
“No. I don’t want people to be with me for my money.”  
“You’d rather them being with you for your body?”   
Sherlock didn’t know why he said it. He worried he went too far again. But to his surprise, her smile only grew. “Yes. A much more honest desire. People here think they have standards. But the truth is they are dirty, sinful people, just like everybody else. And I know how to get it out of them.”   
Her expression was almost predatory. He wouldn’t admit it even to himself, but from some reason he was… impressed. Some people might feel awkward around this sort of passion. He could relate to it. It was the same feeling he had when he had a breakthrough in his experiments. He suddenly realized they both are looking at each other and smiling, like they’re sharing a secret.  
“So what about you?” she asked. “Apparently you are as good as people say. Quite the genius.”  
“Who told you that?”  
“Everyone I asked.”  
“You asked about me?”   
“Oh yes,” she snickered. “I wanted to know what’s keeping you up every night.”  
“Who did you ask?”   
“Oh you know, Dickenson, Connelly, just some unimportant people.” Something puffed up in his chest hearing her calling all those pompous snobs unimportant while putting her interest in him. He agreed with her, they were unimportant. So ordinary.  
“They said I’m a genius?” He asked skeptically.  
“Rather hurtfully admitted it. Such a _turnoff_.” She eyed him. “You were very… observant. I’m flattered.”   
“Don’t be.”  
“How did you know what I told all these people? Unless, of course, you asked about me too.” She leaned forward on her hand with an amused face.   
Sherlock didn’t answer. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of approving what she already knew.  
Her forehead suddenly furrowed. “So how do you do it?”   
Sherlock was confused. “Do what?”   
She now quit resting on her hand, but was still leaned in anticipation. She narrowed her eyes. “Your genius thing. The way you could tell a secret I’ve been hiding from hundreds of people here. How do you do that?”  
“Advanced observation and deduction skills. An ability I have developed since childhood.”  
“All by yourself?”   
“My brother and I. we used to... practice together.” He would go to hell before he would admit his brother taught him a lot of what he knew.  
“Teach me.”  
“What?”   
Irene straightened up. “Teach me how to develop this ability myself. Tell me how.”  
Sherlock stared at her, baffled. In one of the rarest times in his life so far, he didn’t know what to say. No one had ever expressed such interest in this particular talent of his. People usually tell him to piss off.  
“You can’t just learn it like that in an hour, it takes experience and – “   
“Then tutor me,” she stated. “Give me privet lessons. Come on. Teach me, _professor_ ,” she teased.  
Sherlock swallowed. He remembered John telling him that Irene sleeps with her professors. He banished the thought from his head.   
Usually, whenever someone was brave enough to ask him for help in their studies, he’d blow them off impatiently with a comment that he’s not willing to waste his time on slow minded people (possibly why people weren’t exactly fond off him).But disrespecting this woman seemed out of place somehow. And right now she was staring at him with a pair of determined eyes. She is clever, that’s for sure, but is she smart enough to…?  
“Let’s see,” Sherlock jumped to his feet and Irene startled. Suddenly energetic, He moved to his desk and picked through the scattered papers. He could sense Irene watching him closely.  
“There.” He picked up a page and showed her. “This is a simple logical puzzle I have collected as a mental exercise.” He handed her the page and she started reading it, frowning.   
"This is… A murder mystery?”  
“An unsolved murder case.”   
“How did you get that?”   
“I have access to the archives of the Scotland Yard.”  
She raised an eyebrow at him. “How?”  
“That is not important,” He dismissed. Every once in a while his brother gives him some toys to play with, which he can easily get with his position in the government.   
“Show me how you’d solve this.”   
“So this is like a test?”  
“A trial,” He smirked. “If you can handle this, there might be a point to spend my time on you.” Her eyes lit up. She is challenged. She looked back at the paper, not before commenting, “Not very often a guy asks _me_ if _I_ can handle things.” He will think about this comment later. Right now it’s a distraction.   
Irene began to read out loud. “The victim is a man at age of 32. His body was found in a side alley in Baker Street, at the hour of 6:12 am. He had been dead for several hours before. Died from internal bleeding caused by a hit from a heavy object. A massive amount of drugs was found in his blood, and he has a history of buying drugs. It was suspected that the victim got into a fight with a drug dealer who eventually killed him. The murderer was never found.” Irene looked up. “So a junkie got into a nasty fight with his dealer, where’s the mystery here?”   
“Ohh, but who is that junkies killing dealer, that was never found?” Sherlock sent her a tricky smile. He started pacing in front of her, talking to the room. “A mystery dealer, wondering around with a heavy object to beat his clients with. I imagine him like a big goon, carrying an iron axe, perhaps he’s a Viking or –“  
“There could have been something thrown away in that alley, like an old lamp or a broken chair, that he could have picked up and beat the junky with,” Irene pointed out.  
“Right, yes, that’s a likely scenario. Why using your gun when you can impose terror by throwing a chair? Or are you assuming drug dealers don’t carry guns?”   
“So who do you think murdered him?”  
“he wasn’t.”   
“You don’t think it was murder?”   
“I know it wasn’t.”  
“I don’t understand.”   
He stopped in front of her. “Try to.”  
She examined him. “Why?”   
“Because you asked me to teach you to improve your thinking skills and right now you’re not even trying to use them,” He rebuked. “Think. Stop boring me. It’s such a _turnoff_.” Irene followed his steps with her gaze.  
“Where was the junkie’s body found?” asked Sherlock.  
“In a side alley.”   
“But where?”   
Irene recalled. “Baker street.”  
“Pretty large street. Ever been there?  
” “No, have you?”  
“No, actually, but I have scanned a map of the area, and right before baker street there’s a bog slope.”  
“So?” said Irene, becoming a bit frustrated.  
“Oh, it’s important to know where a person is coming from. You of all people should know that. For instance – “  
A knock on the door.   
They both turned sharply towards the noise, and then to each other. Their eyes met. Then, without a word, Irene silently got down on her knees and crawled under the bed, exactly what Sherlock meant for her to do. Sherlock put his ear to the door. He heard voices of two professors hissing at each other. One of them was his chemistry professor. The other he didn’t know.   
“What are you doing? This is Holmes’ room!”   
“But there’s a light on!”  
“He’s probably working on one of his research papers outside of the syllabus. That kid wrote more papers than I’ve written for my Ph.D. Come on. I’ll be damned if he has a girl in there. Come on.”   
He heard the sound of their footsteps gradually fades. Thank GOD for his research papers. Despite how his brother mocks him, they are certainly not entirely useless.  
He waited a few more moments to make sure they left. “Well, turns out–“ he turned around and stopped. It seems Irene had made herself extremely comfortable, since she was lying limply on his bed, her hair all over his pillow, her eyes closed, fast asleep.  
For god’s sake. What the hell is he supposed to do? Sleep on the floor? He can’t sleep beside her. That’s far too intimate. Besides, if anyone finds them that way, it sure will be difficult to explain. Goddammit. He wants his bed. Grumbling, he laid on the floor and tried to find a comfortable position. He laid on his back, looking up. What a weird angle. He could see Irene’s hand hanging from the edge of his bed. Oh well. He figured she probably won’t be able to solve the case. She may wasn’t an ordinary person, no, but that wasn’t enough. Was he disappointed? He did give her the easy one… Did he do it on purpose? Did he _hope_ she would pass the test? The thought disturbed him.  Well, she didn’t. And it’s probably for the best. He doesn’t need to get involved with this woman and her dubious late night adventures that make him end up on the floor. Especially when it gets in the way of his experiments. Tomorrow she’ll leave and they will return to awkward eye contact in the hallway. Sherlock closed his eyes and somehow, managed to fall asleep.

 

“I got it!”   
_What?_ Sherlock woke up by surprise and blinked, dazzled. At first he forgot of last night’s events and didn’t realize what he is doing on the floor, with Irene Adler’s face hanged inches above his, her black curls dangling from both sides of her head and tickling his face.   
Sherlock tried to get up and mumble something, but Irene put her finger on his lips. “Shush now. I’ll do the talking.”   
She repositioned herself on the bed, leaning from the edge. “So, the junkie’s body was found in an alley after he was hit by a heavy object. But there wasn’t a trace for anyone who could have hit him. So maybe he wasn’t hit _there_.”   
_The case. Did she… Could she…?  
_ “The junkie was so high, he could walk for hours with these injuries without feeling the pain. You said there’s a big slope before Baker Street, a lot of people – and vehicles. If he would have hit with the smallest vehicle – let’s say, a _bicycle_ _–_ driving down a steep road, he could get seriously injured, especially if he’s not healthy. But it would be such a minor incident rather than a car accident, for example, no one will notice or report…” _  
_ Her eyes were twinkling. _She didn’t really fall asleep last night,_ Sherlock suddenly realized. _She wanted to get more time to think…_    
“ …And the junkie, without noticing his injuries and too drugged to function, would walk away from the spot instead of calling for medical help immediately, and fail from his injuries in that alley.”   
She finished with a smile stretched on her face. She got up the bed and stood over him, staring at him triumphantly.   
“It seems like I have passed the test. Let’s start the first lesson on... Monday.”  
_Dear god. What has he done?_   
Suddenly, the door opened.  
“Sherlock, what the hell, you missed the first cla – " John stopped and stood at the doorway, complete shock on his face, as he past his look from Irene to Sherlock and Irene again. Irene calmly stepped to the door and looked above John’s shoulder. “Looks like the hall is empty. Time for me to leave. See you in Monday, _Professor Holmes._ ” She gave him one last crafty smile, than passed John, who followed her with his mouth hanged open, and turned to the hall, out of his sight.   
John finally found his voice. “This – You – You _didn’t_ – “   
Sherlock covered his face in frustration. This women is going to get him into a lot of trouble.   



End file.
